


A New Day Has Come

by vogue91



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 12:31:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13190145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: Too many lifeless bodies inside the Great All denied them a complete joy, but Hermione felt it wasn’t the right time to worry about the dead.They needed to worry about the living, of their eyes wandering desolated through the tables, through the effigy of what had just happened.A set of eyes in particular hit her, violently.





	A New Day Has Come

She had seen him breaking.

As if his essence had come out of his body to wander through those dark and cold hallways.

And yet he had moved on, and Hermione thought he was forcing the pain back inside himself, to let it out only when that eternal night would’ve come to an end, whatever that might be.

And he had.

Not like she had expected, not with his usual heat, but he had.

 

~

 

The battle was over and they were the winners, but they really couldn’t feel it.

Too many lifeless bodies inside the Great All denied them a complete joy, but Hermione felt it wasn’t the right time to worry about the dead.

They needed to worry about the living, of their eyes wandering desolated through the tables, through the effigy of what had just happened.

A set of eyes in particular hit her, violently.

There were no tears on his face, yet the girl could feel his pain as if it was spreading throughout the room, passing through everybody.

But she didn’t get closer. It was an anguish that didn’t belong to her, it was a piece of family that was gone, and she wasn’t a part of that family.

For a moment Ron rose his eyes from the floor he was so concentrated on, and looked at her.

Hermione was hit by the emptiness of those eyes, as she was hit from the sudden flash in them, like a desperate call for help.

It lasted a moment, so brief that she thought she had imagined it. And yet, something in Ron was still whole, resistant to the sense of derangement caused by Fred’s death.

And it was that, the girl decided, that she would’ve grasped with all her strength, trying to keep it inside of him, so that he wouldn’t forget the person he knew how to be. At the right time, that help that perhaps wasn’t asked would’ve been granted. But not now, because it was still a time of death. There would’ve been time to born again, and Hermione would’ve followed accurately Ron’s steps, until that moment would’ve come.

 

~

 

The funeral had been worse than Hermione had estimated. She felt the uncontrollable need to cry Fred’s death, the last one to deserve it, and yet her tears would’ve looked inadequate in the middle of the agony she was in.

Her eyes kept observing discreetly every single member of the Weasley family, trying to understand what the right reaction for her was.

Weeping reigned on their faces, with just one exception, the one she cared about the most.

Ron hadn’t changed his expression since the moment his brother had gone away, he was still incredulous, he was still empty.

When they all went back to the Burrow, the girl saw him escaping condolences, tears and hugs, going toward the yard, trying not to be seen. She sighed heavily and went after him.

She saw him sitting on the ground, oblivious to the dust surrounding him, staring intently at a point in front of him.

She sat next to him, without a word. Yet she felt an incredible desire to scream, to tell him all she had kept quiet over the years, to shake him and let him see she was next to him, that he should’ve leant on her, like a rock in the middle of a sea of bitterness, justified but still meaningless.

But she shut up, for what felt like hours, while she knew it must’ve been only a few minutes.

Surprisingly, Ron was the first one to talk.

“Did it really happen?” he whispered. Hermione felt her heart cracking. She bit her lips, holding her tears back one more time.

There were no words to soothe him, but she _had_ to say something, as if protracting that absurd silence was a sign of disrespect.

“Yes, Ron. It really happened.” her whisper was even lower that the boy’s, she felt ashamed of her lack of useful things to say.  “I know it’s not the right thing to tell you right now, but... you must try to react. I know what you’re feeling, and...” she tried to go on, but he didn’t let her finish. He stood up, furious, flushed.

“No!” he yelled. “You don’t know what it feels like!” he hissed, his breath broken. He took his face in his hands, and he sort of growled. “You don’t know what it feels like burying a brother, what it means watching a part of you going away under your own eyes when you can’t do anything to keep it.” he yelled, with a violence she didn’t think could belong to him.

She couldn’t do it anymore.

She cried. She cried for those useless deaths, she cried for Fred, for the smile which would’ve inhabited his face for all eternity, she cried for what his passing had done to his family, to Ron.

He looked at her, uncomfortable. The echo of his words had left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he couldn’t imagine something different to tell her.

They were motionless, frozen in that yard unnaturally warmed by the sun, surrounded by the dust risen by the light summer breeze. Neither of them had the courage to look the other, and in their silence it was like there were still screams of rage, of pain. .

Ron sighed, and with his eyes still low he started talking again.

“You’ve said goodbye to your parents at the end of the year. And now all you have to do is go and take them back, erase the memory spell and get back a family you thought you had lost.” he said, then held his breath for a second. “There’s nothing I can do, I can’t take my brother back. I... I know you’d like to tell me something, to tell me that everything’s going to be alright. And I know it too, it’s just that right now it’s a little hard to believe.” he said. She nodded, understanding the meaning of his words. She stopped crying, got closer to Ron and hugged him.

After a moment of bewilderment, he hugged her back, tight, as if he didn’t want to let her go.

They stayed still for a long time, in that gesture filled with unspoken meanings, of words suspended between them, emotions floating in the air without managing to find a way out of their souls.

When they parted, Ron hinted a vague smile and Hermione bit her lip.

“I can’t say I’ve lost my family until you and Harry are with me.” she murmured, then she hurried back inside.

The last phrase had undermined that pride she used to hold on to during the worst moments, but she felt those were the right words to say.

She couldn’t let Ron believe that someone would’ve given him his brother back, that the world would’ve started spinning again in the right direction, nor she could promise him a future where the memory of those days would’ve faded.

She could just remind him that an era was over, an era that its passing had taken Fred with it.

An era that, nevertheless, had left them with precious days to live, together with the people that would’ve still been there for him.

It was a new beginning and they were all scared of it, her included. But with a new existence coming, Hermione knew there were still a few details that weren’t going to change.

She and Ron were one of those, and that’s all she needed to move on.

 

~

 

Ron didn’t follow her. He didn’t want to head back, nor he wanted to face the last words pronounced by her. He stayed in the yard, looking at the sky getting darker.

Night was coming, fast and unstoppable, and he closed his eyes, thinking he would’ve been allowed to see a new dawn.

He would’ve like to say a billion things, to his parents, to Harry, to his brothers. To Hermione. To all who still had a right to breathe, to walk the earth.

And yet, wandering again with his eyes to the yard and the house, he felt like the only one he really wanted to talk to right now, would’ve never answered to him anymore.

“I reckon you must think I’m an idiot right now.” he muttered to his brother, in the absurd hope he could somehow hear his voice. I imagined to have him right there, to see him laugh about his brother’s weakness, to hear him say that he should’ve run after Hermione, that it was _bloody_ obvious that was where his future laid.

Nothing happened, of course, but just thinking about it made him feel better.

He listened to Fred’s unspoken words, then headed back to the house. He would’ve needed something to hold on to, he knew it, or he wouldn’t have gone out of that vicious cycle or anger, pain, incredulity.

And she happened to be his oasis in the desert left by death, but in the end he had always known it.

He went back, slowly; on the doorstep, he gazed one more time to the sky.

Night had come.

And his new dawn, wasn’t going to catch him alone.


End file.
